An Unlikely Story
by SalvaVeritate
Summary: But the fucked up thing about it is, I wake up wanting her. I wake up wishing the woman beside me had dark brown hair and piercing emerald eyes. Then I turn to my other side and see a corpse. And everything starts all over again.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I obviously don't own any CI movie related characters and such.**

**Date written: January - October 2006**

**Hello, everyone! It has now been 8 or so years since I first signed up here and created Alea Iacta Est. I have been getting private messages from some very nice readers who sometimes ask me to update and sometimes they ask me where the sequel to AIE went. I am very sorry to say that in a fit of craziness and displeasure at my own work (I was very young and temperamental back then), I deleted BGA and it has now gone into heaven.**

**I hadn't realized that so many people still wondered about what had happened to Kathryn, Sebastian, Mathieu, Belinda, and Nikolai and I just deleted it because I remember being very frustrated about the story. I apologize very much and in order to somehow make up for this douchebag move, here is a story I'd written and subsequently deleted under a different account.**

**Some of you will find this story familiar. Some of you may have already read it and you may not have known that it was also from me. For some of you, it will still be very new. Either way, should you decide to read it, I hope you will like it. Each chapter is insanely long (3000+ words!), and I'll try and clean it up a bit before posting. I am very busy with work now, so sometimes I will post a new chapter and sometimes I will try and post more. Either way, this story is finished so don't worry. I also won't delete it anymore. Hahaha**

**Thank you to those amazing readers who still send me messages despite the fact that I have been inactive for a while. It is nice to hear from you all!**

**Also, I would very much like to thank oneamsoundstage for providing me with a copy of this story. When I deleted this back then, I also did not keep a copy of this and am now very glad that she was kind enough to save this from being sent to heaven. Let us all thank her for being kind enough to help me resurrect this story. She may or may not have gone all "Don't delete this again, %$#&*." on me. It's okay that's how she usually talks. Hahahaha**

**An Unlikely Story**

**One**

The sunlight snarls upon me with its cheery disposition and blinding yellow light as it pierces through my closed lids. Even though it was quite apparent that it was yet another signal for me to begin another tedious day, I refuse to open my eyes. I'm quite contented with lying down in my bed, thank you very much.

"Sebastian," I stir, turning at the sound of the voice and wondering what the fuck Kathryn was doing in my bed when I hadn't seen nor spoken to her since Annette died. Certain that this must be one of those ridiculously impossible hangovers; I give an imperceptible groan and shift on my side, towards the voice. My hand reaches out to reclaim the empty space on my blue and white mattress when to my chagrin; it lands on a smooth, curvy body that was most definitely a woman's.

My eyes shoot open and I find myself staring at the back of her head, its dark curtain of tresses tickling her backside. What was Kathryn doing with black hair? Why was it longer? Why did she look different? Nevertheless, I remain undaunted by these thoughts. In my newly awoken mind (a somewhat tabula rasa especially after a particularly hard night of partying with my stepsister), these musings weren't important. I didn't remember what had happened the other night, and frankly enough, I didn't care. If Kathryn Merteuil was lying beside me, muttering my name like a soft prayer, I didn't care at all.

But my rational mind tells me that I should care, that I should place my hand on her back and push her off the bed instead of attempting to bring her closer to me. As my rational mind takes a few minutes to reacquaint itself with my usual standoffish attitude, I let myself indulge in a little morning uncharacteristic affection with her. I let myself forget.

The moment of forgetting never lasts long though. I never let myself get lost in it that much. I didn't deserve it.

Why was I supposed to hate her?

Oh yes, she killed my girlfriend. She was a murderer, a traitor. The serpent from the Garden of Eden disguised in the form of a beautiful, vicious woman who tempted innocent Annette Hargrove and made her pay the price for something she knew nothing about.

The woman I considered to be her moves slightly under my touch.

"Good morning." murmurs a sweet voice laced with weariness as well and suddenly I freeze.

The fog clears itself from my hungover mind and I jerk up to process my surroundings, seeming to realize for what seemed like the first time that I wasn't in my room. At least, not the one in New York. The walls are different, the ornate mahogany desk that had been my usual place when I wrote in my journal was gone, and even the silk sheets wrapped around my legs were different.

I am in Monte Carlo.

This is not Kathryn.

And that's when everything comes rushing back. The bet. Annette. Kathryn. Finding fulfillment in a new life with the former only to have to latter come in and ruin it by making me love her again. Not always, but _again_. My mind becomes a video player gone haywire, planting random memories in my head as if chastising me for my lack of memory.

_ "I love you, Sebastian." Annette's peaceful smile bordering on dreamy. Her fierce opinions, her kind heart, her blonde hair, her blue eyes._

Then it shifts to a slightly twisted memory that had probably started it all.

_"Well, I'm not sleeping in that room!" Kathryn screamed, looking every inch of the spoiled princess brat that she was. Her heels clicked around the room while she paced back and forth, her face hard and embittered and her mouth turned down. "Have some compassion, Valmont, my room's fucking flooded. If I slept there now, you'd see my dead, drowned body floating inside the next day."_

_I smirked, "Do you swear it? Because I'm going to set my alarm clock to go off next week, giving the water ample time to rush through your rather talented mouth and ultimately kill you."_

_"You have no idea how talented my mouth is." she returned snidely, somehow the snarky response has become our tradition over the years. "And you'll never have the chance to know exactly, especially if you refuse to let me sleep on your bed." _

_My eyebrows rose._

_Her sharp gaze caught the change in my expression and she glared at me, "Oh, shut up. Look, I don't like the idea either, but the fact of the matter is, this house is too small. If there are actually rooms available, it's covered with blankets and a thin layer of dust. Now, my next option would be to sleep on the couch in the living room and had my stupid mother not forgotten the fact that we would be arriving in this stupid Hamptons house two days ahead of her and your fornicating father, then maybe she wouldn't have had the servants arrive the same day they did!" _

_"The couches seemed quite comfortable." I commented, leaning back against the bed and smirking at her._

_"Yes, they are. Which is exactly why you'll be a complete gentleman and let me sleep on your bed while you slumber peacefully on the couch."_

_"Like hell I am!"_

_"Okay, look." she huffed, striding across the room and plopping her petite body on the other side of the bed before I could protest. "Here's the truth. Ever since you've decided to diddle Ms. Mary Poppins and remain infuriatingly loyal to her, I've lost my interest in you."_

_ My expression darkened and shade before I could think, and she immediately saw it, sneering a bit._

_"I don't like this either, but I'm going to have to sleep on your bed tonight." She rolled her eyes, grabbing the largest pillow and using it as a divider. "And since you're the poster boy for rudeness and insensitivity, you're going to either get off or you're going to stop being such a whiny bitching fag and just sleep. Newsflash, Valmont. I'm not going to try and seduce you simply because you've proven the fact that, from your role as the hot ill reputed player of Manchester Prep to pussywhipped clichéd reformed bad boy saved by a virginal hick, you're simply not worth the trouble."_

_"Only because you know you'll never have me." I shot back, glaring at the pillow that obscured her upper body._

_ "Au contraire, dear brother." she snapped without bothering to turn around. "It's you who'll never have me."_

_"That's because I don't want you anymore." _

_"Glad to know." she replied sarcastically, "Now shut up, I'm trying to sleep."_

And again, it stops right there into something that has both been the component of my dreams and nightmares.

An imperfect weekend comprised of a single perfect day. Brown hair and guilt, skin on skin, sinning and sex.

_"You're leaving me! The least you could do is give me a damn reason!"_

_"I already told you why. I'm not-I thought I was ready for a commitment..."_

I feel the sharp sting of a slap as if her ghost had stood throughout the entire night and watched me fuck the woman beside me and was now letting me feel her wrath, it wakes me up completely and the woman beside me turns around.

Her dark blue eyes cloud over for a moment before peering curiously at me, her lips were parted open and raven hair falling across a bare breast. Then I jerk my hand off of her, this wasn't part of our arrangement.

This wasn't part of the rules.

I blink again, slowly at first, then with increasing rapidity for the next couple of seconds, realizing the oddity of the situation. There's a certain degree of parallelism to be found in this situation, the woman beside me was my new stepsister, only a year younger than me (although it's nearly impossible to tell when she's got her hands down my pants). Amanda St. Claire, a seventeen year old gorgeous young woman that had her predecessor's (when it came to my stepsiblings of the past, (and if you knew my father, you wouldn't be bothered by this idea because it's the kind of man he is)) cold sense of detachment, some of her cunning, and perhaps a smidgen of her charm.

She stares at me for a couple of minutes before I realize that she was waiting for an answer.

"Morning, Amanda."

For a moment I wonder if she sees through me. I wonder if she views the memories through my eyes, like watching a television show of my past. I do the same to her, although I already know her story. Her ghostly pale skin stands in contrast to the darkness of her hair, the blues of her irises, and the soft pinkness of her perfect little nipples that seemed to beg for attention the way she secretly did.

The moment she feels me scrutinizing her, she averts her gaze. We speak not of emotions of our past, of lost chances and hidden anguish simply because we both believe that it would color us weak. Amanda had her own demons to battle, her own emotions to compress into a box that she hopes would grow smaller and smaller with every drug she snorts and every man she fucks until it completely disappears.

Amanda loved someone once. Not the needy kind of love, not the one for convenience or power. I don't fully know the details of everything as it had only been a year since we became legally related. All I knew was that for all her wealth, beauty and accomplishments, she was as hollow as they go. It made sense that we would continually fuck whenever our parents weren't around, whenever she slipped into my room or I in hers, there would be no terms of endearment or such bullshit.

There were no false promises of commitment since we both knew neither of us were capable of such a thing. No, with her, sex was sex. It was fucking, it wasn't about the romantic way of making love or consuming lust, it was about hating the past and living with it. It was about taking out all your aggressions and turning into passion, because in essence, isn't that where it all began? My relationship with Amanda was about having someone fill you up until the numbness goes away for a while. And when I was with her and every other woman I chose to bed, it did.

It did. It went away.

But the fucked up thing about it is, I wake up wanting her. I wake up wishing the woman beside me had dark brown hair and piercing emerald eyes. Then I turn to my other side and see a corpse.

And everything starts all over again.

When my father divorced Tiffany to marry Beatrice St. Clair, I took it as a chance to get away from the Merteuils. I had already graduated from Manchester Prep and was all set to go to Harvard with Kathryn, we both planned for this. It was our future, she had said while she laid against me, her body slightly warm and her breath raising the temperature to my skin. It had been just a few weeks shy of leaving high school, and we'd acquiesced to spending almost every night together.

Yes, I know what you're thinking. How incredibly uncharacteristic of us, the player and the bitch planning their future together as if nothing else mattered. How out of character, how out of place we both were with each other. Well, fuck you. When I had been with her, all the wrongs that built up with every piece of clothing shed, with every immoral kiss, every illegal tryst, every look, touch, kiss, and all that stood in between, everything became rationalized into our own version of truth.

Even the fact that I had a girlfriend, the very same one who'd managed to dig up my conscience. And Annette Hargrove did dig deep. Let me tell you about her and about how she managed to incite so much remorse from me. No, it's not going to be something foolishly sentimental and all that drivel. But then again, that's what you probably expected to hear, right?

Before you go all nauseous, let me clarify a couple of things. First of which is that I loved her. There. I said it. I loved Annette Hargrove. I first preyed on her innocence and then reveled upon it, she was, in a matter of speaking, my Présidente de Tourvel as I was the Vicomte that had fallen prey into that ludicrous trap. I thought I had seen everything there was to see in life, and then there it was.

The lighter side of things, the only other female to have resisted me. I'm not going to lie to you; I had been ready to leave Kathryn for her because I had been so convinced at that moment that this was the only way to keep me from dropping into the pitfalls of a meaningless life.

But Kathryn, of all people, changed that.

"I'll see you at the party tonight?" said the female (my newest stepsister) about to head for the door, a single white sheet wrapped around her body.

I nod and smile at her, indulging in her airy persona. A high school senior at one of the most prestigious prep schools, Amanda was (what a shocker) the most sought after girl and undoubtedly the most hated as well. Like Kathryn, she backstabbed and clawed her way to the top and stayed there smiling and nodding pleasantly while she was at it.

Though you might think that I'm simply trying to replace my former stepsister, it isn't entirely the case. Amanda St. Clair and Kathryn Merteuil, though similar in a way, are completely different people. It was tantamount to comparing two shades of color that might look the same but in reality aren't.

"I'll bring a date." I smirk and she rolls her eyes, never appearing possessive of me. She knows me, she knows that while I may not look like it when we're in bed, I do have my limits.

"So will I." Amanda replies, smirking back.

And I lean back grabbing my notebook thoughtfully before opening to a random page. For a minute I indulge in a little light reading, pausing thoughtfully to scan the first few sentences when my eyes darken.

_Perhaps I have assumed too much, too soon. I don't know what it is that's changed, but somehow everything seems different. That one night with Kathryn would have been a great triumph, if not the greatest (topping even Annette), and I should have left it at that. Conquering Mt. Everest should be a one time thing, because too much can burn you out easily. I find that my life has become a shallow pool of debauchery and deceit, and I intended to look for something more substantial. That's what I have with Annette, a relationship with no games, no mindfucks and no mockery. I should be contented (at least to a certain degree because after all, this is what I left my old life for, right?), but I'm not._

_I have bitten the poisoned apple Eve has offered and I want the whole fucking thing._

I flip again, the pages turning faster until my scrawls are gibberish at first sight. Then I'm done. I can't read it anymore, I close it and shut my eyes, letting the well worn companion of mine lie dormant beside me while I allow myself the darkness of sleep.

-0-0-0-

Hours later and after a couple of quick fucks with those insipid airhead bimbos, I down my fourth scotch and spot Amanda a couple of feet away. Her eyes (the color of the ocean when a storm is brewing) flash animatedly and she places a hand on her date's wrist. I hide a smile behind my glass and she catches it, while her date paused to charm Beatrice St. Clair (although now St. Clair-Valmont), she takes a quick look around to give me the finger and I jerk my head slightly, motioning for her to come over.

The truth was, she's the only person in these exorbitantly done charity events worth talking to. Amanda and I understand in each other. We both know our own stories and weaknesses that we'd rather keep between ourselves. Sometimes I think if she wasn't there I would have fucked God knows how many women just to make me forget.

Amanda nods slightly and gives another polite smile (which roughly translated to "Fuck you, you stupid moron.") to the adoring company and strides over to me, planting a sisterly kiss on my cheek before ordering a glass of vodka from the bartender.

"Strong stuff." I comment, glancing over at her and watching in fascination as the ice makes a slight tinkling sound while she slowly spins the glass into a small circle.

"Have you seen this party?" the raven haired girl that was to be the object of lust at the party answered, drinking it in one easy gulp (and making it look quite graceful, which leads me to another assumption: There's a lot of Kathryn in this young woman.) "I need it."

My mouth turns up into a smile and I say nothing, we remain silent for a while, preferring to observe the crowd and mocking them when she starts talking again.

"So where's your date tonight, my darling stepbrother?"

"Left her." I shrugged, "Will you be my date?"

She clucks her tongue, her dark eyebrows slowly knitting together. As she places her glass down, she touches my wrist and I see a gleam in her eyes.

"Now what would it look like if I started kissing you all of a sudden?" she asks, laughing at my offhanded comment. "No, I'm going to find you a date to screw tonight, because I for one would hate to see you all alone in bed while I get my brains fucked out by a very experienced Anthony."

"Good luck." I mutter, not really taking her seriously. I discreetly glance at my watch before picking up my refilled drink. The alcohol was already getting to me, and all I was thinking about was getting some sleep.

After today's many excursions, I wasn't really in the mood for sex.

"There." Amanda points to a tall, lithe woman with legs that never ended. I recognized her as some supermodel but quickly rejected the notion.

"She's gay."

Her eyebrows shoot up, "Are you serious?"

"I saw her eating out Jacklyn Foster while I was looking for a room earlier."

"So that's why she always talked to me during these functions..." Undeterred, her determined eyes scan the crowd while I pay more attention to the idea of my bed and sleep. She was obviously trying to get me someone suitable, and then she gives a sharp inhalation when she notices someone from the entrance.

"There." she says, satisfied. "She's really pretty. Although I've never seen her before."

"Give it up, Amanda." I sigh; more contented with staring at the amber liquid swirling around the glass than to avert my gaze to the woman she was looking at.

"Oh, she's looking here." Amanda smiles that smile of hers, the one that graces the students of her school whenever she wants something and gets it. Placing a hand on my shoulder, she drops her mask for a moment or two and speaks.

"Come on, Sebastian. Let's forget for a while." she murmurs, her voice echoing the sadness and anger we both felt. "Sometimes this is the only way."

My resolve melts at her tone, it was earnest and understanding. It was full of comprehension for someone her age even though I was only a year or two older than her, I felt centuries old sometimes. I think it's because I saw too much of life in such a short period of time that I easily got tired. Finally deciding to humor her and show my appreciation for her good intentions, I glance at her as she pulls away and I smile back. When she sees my mouth curve and my teeth show, she knows that it doesn't reach my eyes.

But then again, her smile was the same.

"Good." she whispers, "Because she's looking at you right now."

I smirk and tip my drink into my mouth, hoping for one last fuel of alcohol before I screw the said woman into oblivion. My eyes follow Amanda's until it stops.

And time stops.

My hand stops from tipping my drink down my throat.

(Yet I remain parched for it even more now.)

My eyes don't blink.

(I hunger for a sight I haven't seen in a while.)

Amanda doesn't notice that I've stopped moving and continues to talk, yet her voice is now distant in my ears.

"In fact, I don't think she's even invited in here. Probably a gatecrasher or a social climber of some sort.

But she's certainly beautiful, I love her hair, it's such a lovely shade of brown." she muses to herself while all thoughts from my head fled.

And time suddenly begins again, but this time it's in a slower pace.

My fingers had been gripping the glass so tightly it's a wonder I didn't break it. Now my grip has slackened and the cold liquid that was to be my ticket to a long and dreamless sleep splatters on my shoes while the glass breaks and ice melts on the wooden floor. Amanda gives a small shriek of surprise, but I don't hear her.

I've gone deaf and so very still at the sight of Kathryn Merteuil.

* * *

**A/N: Just because it has been ages since I wrote here. Thank you all again! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

Ever since the incident happened, I've always wondered about two things.

The first was if the nightmares would ever stop. I always think about when the sight of Annette's blood forming a puddle on the floor would drain out of my memory the way it had been drained from her body.

The second question I've asked myself since I left was what I would do if I ever saw Kathryn again.

When I asked myself that, I didn't think it would be soon. I didn't think it would be tonight, of all nights. Amanda senses my sudden anxiety and momentarily bites back the expletive that was about to come from her mouth. She knows that I wasn't easily ruffled and from this, she slowly gains an understanding as to why I was suddenly rendered immobile and mute.

I watch transfixed, while Kathryn gives her a collected appraisal, breaking our gaze while she sizes up the young woman beside me. Her beautiful face betrays no emotion while she gives Amanda a once over from afar. I can feel her presence as though she were standing inches from me, she had that unique combination of frost and warmth and right now, I feel myself getting burned and frozen.

A confusing notion, I suppose. You would have to feel it for yourself to understand that this sensation can't be described by any other words so as to portray it acutely. I suddenly have the sense of urgency to try to protect my stepsister from her, she's already killed the only other woman who'd managed to capture my attention and hold it there for a certain period of time (longer than usual), and finally tearing my eyes away from the formfitting silk dark green dress that brought out her predator-like eyes, I look at Amanda and am not surprised to see that instead of shrinking away like some insipid high school girl, she stares back with equal coldness at Kathryn. For a while, I'm tempted to leave the two and disappear again, but I'm not a coward.

We all had to face our demons sometime, and my own was standing a few feet away from us.

I wrap an arm around her shoulder and already, I feel two holes burning at the side of my cheek while I face Amanda.

As she meets my gaze, a small concerned frown immediately covers her forehead. "That's her, isn't it?"

I nod and Kathryn still doesn't bat an eyelash. Her expression doesn't change, it had the same quality of impassive deadness I had worn myself for the past year. Amanda's mouth turns up into a small smile and she snuggles closer to me, obviously getting a kick out of making Kathryn jealous.

I don't even feel the gentle weight of her head leaning against me. My heart has begun beating so hard I can barely hear myself think, fight or flee. Fight or flee.

_"You got into Harvard?" she asked, barging into my room without bothering to knock. In one hand she held a bottle of champagne, and in the other she held an opened envelope with the university's logo on it and a pleased smile on her usually scowling (at least when it came to me) face._

_I paused for a moment to admire the toned muscles on her smooth calves while she crossed the room with ease. Judging from her expression and the fact that she'd been waiting and working hard to get into at least every Ivy League university since she could manipulate and use her assets with ease, she got into everything she'd applied to. It didn't really surprise me, what did surprise me was her exuberant expression since it made her look like a little girl._

_I found it engagingly charming._

_She looked at me curiously and I suddenly realized that I'd been staring at her while I drifted off into my musings. As I smirked at her, she grabbed the edge of the desk and placed herself on my lap, where my arms immediately welcomed the warmth of her body. Kathryn placed the bottle and the letter on my desk, her soft mouth slightly puckered and half smiling when I started rubbing my fingers down the sides of her hips._

_"Mmm…" she murmured, leaning back against me and closing her eyes. "Stop distracting me."_

_I leaned closer, breathing the scent of her skin before lightly kissing it in the places I knew would make her shiver. As she tried to grab the envelope with the Harvard seal on it, I took her hands in mine until they rested on her flat stomach and she gave an impatient groan but didn't resist. She's like melting butter underneath the fierce heat of the sun, and when I was with her, my senses were heightened to a certain degree._

_I felt the smooth sheer cloth of her dress and the body heat that emanated from the ice princess herself (say it isn't so). I caressed her hand with my thumbs, willing her into submission._

_"I wasn't aware I was." I closed my eyes and smiled against her neck. "However, Ms. Merteuil, are you slightly aware that we are, despite our protests and denials, quite an unlikely story to be told?"_

_"Stories mean nothing to me." I felt her well rounded bottom suddenly shift back and forth against me and I knew that she trying to get me hard. It didn't really take much, and as prickles of arousal swept through me, I wasn't able to think properly. She squeezed my hands, nestling against me in such a manner even I didn't know she was capable of. Her nose brushed against my cheek as her the tip of her tongue breached her lips to lick the side of my jaw before turning it into a kiss._

_"Why, the Kathryn I know prided the stories told about her above anything and anyone else." I commented thoughtfully, pulling back to open her lips with mine. All is forgotten for a few seconds of the parrying of tongues and the meeting of mouths, I doubt I could ever lose interest especially when she kissed me like this._

_"It's not…" she spoke between kisses, her fingers at the back of my neck and her body suddenly becoming warmer during our brief lip lock. "True."_

_"So tell me Kathryn, what could possibly be more important than your perfect reputation?"_

_Finally using her advantage at my current lack of attention, she grabbed the envelope and tore it open unceremoniously, her eyes quickly scanning the letter._

_"You got in as well." Her mouth turned up and I found myself mirroring her smile although I didn't know why she was so happy. Surely our relationship wouldn't be able to survive long enough for a commitment such as that. This wasn't the kind of person we were, and I was still with Annette. _

_It didn't make sense. I didn't understand why Kathryn was acting the way she was; I didn't understand how things would work out after all this. Wasn't this just another affair? Wasn't this temporary because we're both people who firmly believe that nothing should be kept sacred and permanent? Wasn't this just an attempt to exhaust years and hours and months and days of sexual tension between us?_

_"Assuming I'll be going there next year." I replied smoothly, trying to make some sense of things._

_She stopped moving, becoming still for a few seconds before the mask on her face came back. She got that face when she was about to rant._

_"What do you mean you're not going there? You're going there because I'm going there! You're going there because I want you to be there!"_

_I felt my anger rise as I stood up, promptly causing her to lose her balance and almost fall to the floor._

_"You can't treat me like I'm some dog who's going to follow you around, Kathryn. It' doesn't work that way."_

_We were two stones butting against the other, both equally hardheaded and dangerous when propelled with such phenomenal force. Her small hands clenched into tight fists while she shoved me, causing the desk to move and the bottle to fall to the floor, shattering bits and pieces of green glass and pale yellow liquid._

_"Oh, but if Pollyanna asked you, I bet you'd go." She seethed bitterly, glaring at me._

_"Give me one good reason why I should go there." I challenged._

_"Because I said so!"_

_My temper flared further, "What makes you think I'll follow every word you say?"_

_ She gave a little annoyed scream, the red flush from her cheeks no longer debited to arousal but to anger._

_ "You are so irritating!" she yelled, looking like she wanted to throw something at me._

_Then I had no sense of rationality left inside. What happened next came purely from instinct, and suddenly my anger became coupled with words I didn't even know I could say to her, of all people. Kathryn was snarling at me, fully ready for a confrontation. I was glaring right back, wondering why there were days when I could never get enough of her and days when I wanted to wring her neck._

_Either way, a full downpour of anger came out of me and I started talking. "You know, you can be so infuriating. Listen, Kathryn, just because I love you doesn't mean I'm going to let you make an important decision such as this for me. As you may very well recall—"_

_My words were cut off when she suddenly shoved me, causing me to land on the bed. Surprised at this sudden move, I couldn't even remember what it was I said. The look of anger on her face was replaced by something more intent. She stared at me, her eyes melting a hole through my soul and making me remember with shocking realization what I just said._

_Holy son of a bitch._

_"Say it again." She commanded, frowning in concentration to further intensify her scrutiny of me. Her cheekbones brought out her sharp eyes, and it was also then that I noticed the depths of her gaze signified something I hadn't seen fully before. Mere glimpses, perhaps, of the flickers of emotion raging on inside of her, but never to this extent. Suddenly I was aware that this situation was not included in those other instances I've made a mockery of her. No, this was serious._

_Our temporary affair had spiraled out of control, leading into something dangerous. Whatever thoughts I had about continuing my relationship with Annette fell out the window and died a slow and agonizing death while my pulse raced and my heart pounded._

_I turned the tables on her and flipped her over so I was the one on top. I bent my knees and loomed over her, holding her wrists to the sides of her head and leaning closer until our noses were inches from each other._

_"I love you."_

_I prepared myself for a mocking smirk or a quick roll of her eyes and braced myself for the feeling of being pushed away, I expected to hear her slam the door and leave the mess of the champagne and the other unopened letters._

_A miracle of miracles happened:_

_She smiled._

A few meters are left, and she is slowly lessening the space between us. Amanda tries to smile at me, to provide some form of assurance but nothing works. I'm as tense as a bow string and I hate it. Upon closer look, I see the difference a year has made in her; Kathryn's hair is longer, silkier if even possible. In high school it was coiffed to perfection, now it hung looser, splayed around her shoulders casually. Her eyes never leave mine and try as hard as I could; I find that I am unable to turn away from her.

She's gained a healthy glow in her features, and I momentarily wonder if she's turned away from drugs ever since it happened. But I don't want to think about it right now, because when I see her, the hatred builds up and corrodes the affection.

"Sebastian Valmont." She greets me with caution and Amanda clears her throat when I remain silent for more than what was required in a civil conversation. Kathryn doesn't miss the support my stepsister gives me and like a protective lioness glaring at her opponent, she cocks her head and smiles coldly at her.

She remains unmoved by Kathryn's display of cruelty and instead turns to me and leans closer, placing her mouth inches from my ear. Her breath surely reeked of vodka, and had it been any other night, I would have tasted it through her as I explored her mouth with my tongue. Had it been any other night, I would have forgotten Annette, Kathryn and the guilt that lay in the midst.

The vodka flavored air from her words fill my ear as she gives me a nudge.

"I'll be in my room in case you need to talk." She murmurs gently, oddly sounding like she was an actual sister when in fact Amanda and I occasionally fucked like bunnies. Kathryn doesn't speak although I know she's probably itching for a snide remark and opts to watch Amanda fade into the crowd of impeccably dressed individuals who all vied for power and attention.

"You're fucking her, aren't you?" She takes Amanda's place beside me and orders a drink, pausing to glare at the ogling bartender before turning her attention back to me.

"I see you haven't changed. Always straight to the point like before."

It is apparent that she is gauging my mood, but since that horrific night of white powder and opened doors, I've learned to mask my emotions under the greatest of inquiries. Hers.

_"Sebastian, you're here…"_

_My blood ran cold at the sight of blood flowing freely from her wrist and swallowed the bile that was rising to my throat as Annette reached out for me. Her pallor was the color of death, rivaling the whiteness of Kathryn's skin. The red liquid stained my white shirt while she clumsily wrapped an arm around me. I felt her open wound at the back of my neck and it was a miracle I didn't lose my dinner there._

_I don't throw up because I realized that there was another person in the room, lying sleeping and peaceful despite the fact that Annette was near death as it is._

_"I love you so much," she slurred in her dazed state, her upper lip contained vestiges of white powder that was so familiar to me._

"Excuse me, I'm sorry for interrupting but you're just so beautiful and I was about to leave." One of Amanda's prep school friends fell into step between us, openly leering at Kathryn. "I'm Joseph."

"I'm not interested." She replied coldly, but the broad shouldered man was persistent. Apparently nobody had ever turned him down before and he was desperate to salvage his ego, so he merely brushed off her remark and came closer.

"Why, are you already taken?"

I already see her eyes clouding over with impatience at the nerve of this man, but suddenly the feelings that had lain dormant resurface and before I knew it, I had glared at the loser and told him to fuck off.

We both watch while he attempts to soothe his ego by hitting on another girl before she speaks, and this time Kathryn inches closer to me, having established that the coldness I was exuding was easily penetrable.

"I've always loved it when you were so protective." Her breasts brush against my chest and I can already feel the pink nubs harden under the friction. There's a hunger in her eyes that I understand and a hollowness in her expression that mirror mine, it takes a while for me to realize that this was the first time she allowed herself to come so dangerously close against me while we were in public.

"Did you miss me?"

"No." I answer blandly, trying to muster up enough courage to leave.

Her hands find their way into my hair and she runs her fingers through my scalp, licking her lips slightly. Now everything has become still again and I know that I'm failing miserably to try to show the fact that I've moved on. "You know," she whispered, looking desolate for a split second before the usual mischievous expression returned. "When we were together and we attended the usual charity functions, I wanted to grab you and kiss you right in front of everybody. You know, just tell them to fuck off because I couldn't stand it anymore."

_"Do you love me now that I'm exactly like her? What will you do, Sebastian? Who will you save?"_

_My hands were cold and numb. Another check at the pool of blood and the way her pupils were dilated made me see that I would be too late, her breathing has slackened and the blood felt warm against my skin._

_The offending razor that had cut through her beautiful skin rested between the two fingers of a slumped brunette on the floor._

Like a flash of lightning I am hit by the memory that forced me to leave and I keep my emotions in check.

I don't deserve to be fulfilled. Not after what I'd done.

"Murderer." I hiss instead, grabbing her shoulders to keep her away from me because God knows what I would have done if she had stayed where she was.

Something comes over her and the warmth that had suffused her face earlier hardens and turns into frost.

"So we're back to that." She says, cocking an eyebrow.

"Has the guilt finally settled in or is your heart too cold just like the rest of you?"

I grab her arm before she can respond and drag her outside the gardens, where the moon hung low and the guests were scarce. Kathryn doesn't seem fazed by my sudden roughness and goes along willingly; I lead her through the twists and turns of the hedges until I am sure we are alone. The slightly damp grass crunches beneath our feet and we walk under the darkness of the night. During the hurried stride, she wrenches her arm from me and fills my hand with hers, causing me to stop and look at her in surprise.

"Why do you think I'm here?" she asks, and I try not to feel the way I did when a part of her body filled mine.

"It's not going to work." I mutter, taking my hand away. "Leave, Kathryn. Just get out of my life."

She looks stung by my words and the blaze of anger overrides the affection and crystallizes into hatred. Suddenly her beauty contorts into sharp proportions, her glare like a knife glinting under the moonlight ready to cut me open. The air has changed around us, as though adapting to the facades we both wore.

Her body involuntarily shivered and I automatically take off my coat to drape around her shoulders but she slaps my attempt away.

"Look at me when you talk." She hisses, her hands clenching and unclenching in an effort to restrain herself. When I keep my gaze directed on the ground, she grabs my face and jerks it so our eyes meet.

Now, whatever calmness she'd had earlier was totally gone. "Do I remind you of a dead girl, Valmont?" she taunts, not really knowing the truth and what I had to do to protect her. "Do you wish I hadn't taken her in that night? I don't even remember what happened! I don't know how much she took or why she OD'd, but she begged me, it was never my intention to—"

She didn't OD. You killed her.

"Shut the fuck up."

She doesn't know what really happened and I envy the ignorance I created to shield her from the guilt. She doesn't know that the razor had been in her hand while Annette bled to death.

"Why?" she questions in a collected tone, "Was it because you loved Dorothy too much? Don't put this all on me, Valmont. Why do you think she started taking drugs? Oh yes, you're so consumed with anger, well why don't you go dig up her corpse and proclaim your love and devotion to her?"

I've reached my boiling point.

"It's not because I loved her!" I scream, grabbing her shoulders.

"Why then?" she yells back and for a moment I see black and white and Kathryn.

"It's because I fucking love you!"

Before she can ask me to elaborate, I pull her close and kiss her. Her lips are soft and pliant; it was like I had never left. Kathryn, like the year before and the years before that, is still intoxicating. I greedily take in the warmth of her mouth, the taste of her tongue, and the scent of her hair, knowing it wouldn't be long before I started remembering everything that had happened again.

Her hands had pulled the bottom of my dress shirt and she was now caressing the skin underneath, her fingernails raking through my pectorals. She slowly pulls out her hands to unbutton my shirt while I devour her neck greedily. She matches me with every rough movement and every harsh kiss, rolling her neck back and letting me have a chance to play with her as I'd liked. I knead her breasts with one hand, trailing kisses down her jaw and sucking on her collarbone lightly.

Kathryn gives a low moan that sends shivers down my spine. I feel my cock twitch to life and the bulge grows under the furious rubbing of her hand. She gives a sudden cry when my mouth clamps on her breast, sucking on the hard nipple through her sheer dress.

"Don't ever tell me you don't want me anymore." She groans, tugging fistfuls of my hair to bring me closer.

I bring my hand to find the silky wetness between her thighs, the tip of my finger stroking her slick entrance. She's warm and wet and hell and heaven, a murderer and a perfect saint, beautiful and monstrous. She's preparing herself for me, for my body to fit inside of her and bring us to a place we haven't been for the past year. I give an inaudible gasp when her fingers wrap around my throbbing arousal and starts to pump it achingly slow, her mouth slightly opened when I grew impatient and I push the cloth of her panties aside, inserting a finger inside of her.

I am feverish with lust as I feel her walls tighten around my finger, and I could almost smile in nostalgia because I realize that she still feels the same. Her body is a fiery temple of soft walls and pink rose petals; I look up at her to see her biting her lip hard, her eyes were closed and her hand steadily working its magic inside my pants. I stop paying homage to her breasts and capture her in another kiss, swallowing her small scream when one finger became two and I drew patterns on the spot that made her shake.

"Come back with me." She whispers against my mouth and the illusion comes crashing down. "I'm sorry about Annette."

_"Look, Sebastian. I'm bleeding."_

_Seconds passed and Annette was slipping away. I had already called an ambulance but it would take minutes, and Annette didn't have those to spare. _

_Neither did Kathryn. I spared another glance at her, trying my best not to see the glinting silver that lay in her hand. It was caked with coke and blood, her nostrils were pouring out blood and she didn't look like she was breathing. It would take time for me to wake up the servants to help, and I knew that if I tried to carry both girls, it was more likely they both won't survive. I could only take one and the grim realization made me tremble._

_Annette caught my gaze and her blue eyes narrowed hazily, pressing herself against me. _

_"Choose."_

I jerk away from her and run, my breathing coming in huge gasps. I look disheveled, my shirt unbuttoned and the bulge still apparent, but I don't care. I can't stand the way she spoke to me, I can't stand the guilt that I had saved the murderer and not the victim. I hate it when I remember that for Kathryn, the night was a blur. I hate the fact that I took the blade and wiped it clean before I pressed it against Annette's fingers. I hate the fact that she lay twitching and dying while I called the ambulance, and I most certainly hate the fact that I didn't feel regret for having scooped Kathryn up to sprint to my car.

I hate the fact that I couldn't look at her afterwards without reliving that night.

I hate the fact that I left her.

I hate the fact that I love her.

Finally, I stop in front of Amanda's door, my face red and sweaty. There are loud moans coming from inside but I pay no heed. When the door opens, she turns her head sharply from her indignant date and looks at me. Her dark hued blue eyes change from lust-filled to concerned and she dismisses Anthony without another thought while covering her naked body with the blankets to create an illusion that I was only her stepbrother. When we were alone, she stands up and keeps her eyes on me, taking note of my current state.

"Come here." She says gently and I follow, my composure broken as the past I'd tried to forget takes over my life until I have no choice but to confront it.

* * *

**A/N: Well, well. Just like old times, yeah? Sort of. It is taking so long to reread and edit the chapters because I am not used to it anymore and because it is strangely only now that I'm realizing how insane I was for writing chapters that are insanely long. (Sorry about that). So, for a lot of you, this is pretty new. It is also pretty cool that some of you do remember this story.**

**Vivvs - I am sort of back but not really, since this is an old story and is actually finished and I am not going crazy trying to think of twists and turns to keep things interesting. :)) Thank you for the support! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**Lita - Thank you!**

**Eashi Chand - Much appreciated! Most of my stories here are very long, thank you for reading (and rereading them). Stay tuned, I will attempt to fast track all the story love for everyone!**

**ForeverReadRed - Thanks for the nice welcome back! Yes it is K/S, it is about 14 chapters long and it doesn't contain any crazy complex characters who hijack the story (**cough**, Conner/Elle/Ian/Mathieu/Belinda******cough** hahahaha). I have been actually thinking about The Involuntary Descent. :)**

******Unfeeling - Yes I remember you too! Maybe, maybe not. I am extremely rusty when it comes to these things. Hahaha**

******laughing elephants - Wish granted! **

******pot - If by happy ending you mean the one where in the middle of a scene, a bomb explodes killing everyone and ending the story abruptly, then you're about to get your wish granted! Only kidding. It has a nice ending. I think. :))**

******CIFan12 - Thanks! Well it is not a new story it is an old story under an old account that I deleted in a fit of craziness. :))**


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

For what seems like the nth time since my father married Beatrice St. Clair, I marvel at her daughter. Amanda leans back against the luxurious cushioned chair, crossing her long legs in a careless way that was not intended to seduce but all the same, I notice the way her skin rubbed together while she looked at me as she waited for me to begin. I feel a sudden rush of affection (and perhaps a different kind of _love_, although I'm not the one to throw that word around) towards her and I begin to forget Kathryn in a way that only Amanda ever could. She's surprised by this but understands, and instead of pushing me away or wrapping her arms around me to bring me closer, her hands cup my face and she lets me kiss her. Amanda's lips are responsive and her throat gives a slight moan against my tongue, she is gorgeous and broken and warm, but she doesn't feel like home.

She doesn't feel like Kathryn.

I don't want to tell my story now and maybe this woman will help me forget. Her body has grown warmer as she lets my hands wander everywhere. When I start kissing her neck, she sucks on my earlobe and lets me know that it's not going to work.

"You have to stop running, Sebastian." She speaks in a low voice and I am suddenly ashamed of my hesitance. I walk backwards until I land on the chair opposite hers, my mouth red from kissing her.

"You look so sad."

I maintain my silence and her hand reaches out to offer me a glass of wine, a crease forming on her forehead that would have served as worry lines. She shows wisdom well beyond her years and I feel strangely proud.

"I'm not."

Her wide, deep set blue eyes study me while I take a sip. "Stop now or you'll never stop running. Trust me; it does get old after a while."

"Has it been that long since what happened to you?" I question, knowing well enough that she doesn't like talking about that particular part of her past.

"What happened to me?" she repeats softly, looking into the fiery hearth. "You don't know, do you? His name was Stephen. I was fifteen then and involved with a man who thought it was amusing to beat my face to a pulp. I met Stephen and he made me see that things could be different. One night, I was going to leave my boyfriend and somehow he found out about Stephen. He hit me until I was unconscious and then went after him. Stephen's body was found the next day in a lake. His limbs had been cut off."

I swallow thickly; taking in the grisly story of Amanda's shadowed past. Now I understood why she sought the escape as much as I did.

"I'm sorry." I answered, looking at her.

"Well, I've shared my horror story, now it's only fitting that I know yours."

The wine tastes bitter and I am reminded of blood as the crimson liquid filled my mouth. The bitterness doesn't leave although the wine has been forgotten. Finally, under the scrutiny of my raven haired stepsister's gaze, I let the air enter my lungs (taking in a deep breath that seemed to last forever) and was about to begin when the loud opening of the door causes our heads to turn.

That idiot who had hit on Kathryn earlier stumbles inside, his beefy muscular arms and large frame wrapped around a female who was apparently stupid enough to fall for his lame ass lines.

"Baby, you're so fine." the moron murmurs, trying in vain to sound husky and instead sounding like a jackass.

"Excuse me!" Amanda's crisp voice radiates with politeness and ice while glaring at him pointedly. "Do you mind? My stepbrother and I are having a private conversation."

Joseph shifts his weight to leer at Amanda and I catch my breath when I see Kathryn. Her large dark green eyes are more hazy than sexually stimulated. The hickey I had left earlier was still visible on her neck and she had a serene smile on her beautiful face that could only mean one thing.

She gives me an evil look that could rival Satan's, "I'm well aware of how long my private conversations with Sebastian lasted, so perhaps we can find a more suitable place, Joseph. This will surely take hours if memory serves me correct and he still has the stamina."

There is a small spot of white on her left nostril. For the second time in the night, I let the rage grab control of my body. Doesn't she know that the sight of her drugged out only reminded me of that fucking night? Doesn't she know that because of the white powder on her face I now suddenly have flashbacks of Annette watching me while I let her slump to the floor? Doesn't she fucking know that it fucks me up more when I see her like this? She is intolerable!

I wrench the Neanderthal's death grip off her and Kathryn only chuckles headily at me while the larger man growled like an animal deprived of food.

"Hey!" Joseph whines, trying to grab her arm but I stand between them and clench my fists, giving him the look of pure fury I felt at the moment. My blue eyes turn steely and my jaw tightens, I feel like I am about to jump and murder him with my bare hands if he chooses to pick a fight. I feel Kathryn's hand on my shoulder and somehow it relinquishes some of the anger.

"You run like a little pansy when we almost fuck but you don't want somebody else to have a taste?" her voice is slurred, the dress slightly tugged and exposing the top of her supple milky breasts. Her bra is torn and I am fuming at the thought that this caveman's large hands had touched her.

Joseph licks his lips, looking a like a trashy porn star. "Come on, Kat. What do you say we take the party back to my place? I have some more left there."

"YOU GAVE HER THE DRUGS?" I yell and suddenly, Joseph is grasping futilely at my arms while he gasped and choked for breath. He is pinned against the wall and I didn't give two fucks about whether or not he's broken something.

Amanda grips my arms and pushes me away, her face tight and drawn. She looks older than seventeen at that instant, and her gaze probes into mine. I release Joseph hesitantly.

Kathryn, despite her inebriated and drugged out state, doesn't miss this silent exchange. Her upper lip curls up in disgust and she rolls her eyes, making a move to follow a stunned and coughing Joseph out with Amanda when I grab her.

"What did you take?" I know for a fact that her internal organs had greatly weakened since the incident and I worried that she might have to be rushed to the hospital or something.

Her gorgeously light pink painted mouth widens into a lazy smile, Amanda gives us a look before closing the door and the strangest of smirks crosses her pale face. Once again, the drunken brunette glowers at her and before I could come up with a snide comment, her eyes roll backward and body slumps to the floor like a broken rag doll.

I will kill that man for this.

I kneel and open her eyelids forcefully, peering carefully. Sweat begins to bead down my temple even though it isn't even hot, her pulse is steady and I am grateful for the many instances in the past wherein I'd find her passed out because the doctor I had called taught me how to know if she needed medical attention or if she just needed to rest. She shifts her legs and her dress rides up, showing me that glorious black laced clad mound of hers. The sight and the memories it invokes makes me blink. I wonder if she realizes that even though she's passed out and stoned, she still manages to entice me. My fingers brush across her thigh when I try to pull her dress back down to avoid any further distractions and the contact causes her to rouse.

"Why do you keep molesting me in my sleep? She murmured, only half aware of what she was saying. "Remember that night at the Hamptons house? It was during the storm and you were pissing me off and…" her words are coming out in fast jumbles and incoherent slurs.

Placing my arm underneath her back and the other to support her neck, I lift her up and bring her to my room.

"I remember." I answer quietly and she covers her eyes under the bright lights of the hallway. I remembered well.

"What about homecoming?"

_"What took you so long? I've been waiting for ten minutes!" I complained, pacing the abandoned gardens._

_The tiara on her gorgeous head sparkled and she seemed to take her sweet time getting to me. Her hips swayed in a natural manner that appeared seductive, the slow movement of her steps only intensifying my craving for her. She had won homecoming queen (surprise fucking surprise) and had had to mingle and dance with her pretty boy date (who was annoyingly the homecoming king). I had of course gone with Annette and regretted it the moment I saw how stunning Kathryn looked tonight._

_"Well, I am the queen after all." She smirked, biting her lip when our bodies are practically so close. I can smell her scent and feel her petite frame fit against mine even though I haven't touched her yet. "It would only be fitting that I made you wait."_

_The crown felt cold against my fingertips and my touch travels down her temple and cheek, drinking in her glowing smile and the slightest rouge of her cheeks. "Queen…" I murmured, leaning closer to brush my lips against hers but not kissing her. "Perhaps I just might punish you for keeping me waiting."_

_"Punish away." She whispered, grinning wickedly._

"Of course." I look at her just as the door to my room is opened and at that moment, she opens her eyes and we stare at each other in the doorway.

"I miss you, Sebastian." She says, the alcohol just starting to manifest at its strongest point. Kathryn lets out a laugh that sounds fake and self deprecating, "I don't have anybody to play with anymore."

I smirk, amused at how innocent this devil-woman in my arms sounded like when in fact she was capable of so much more.

_"Choose."_

_"Don't make me do this." I pleaded but right away Annette knew the answer._

"What are you, eight?"

"Not since eeeeleven years ago!" she belts out throatily and instead of being appalled by her singsong voice, I forget that night and focus on her. After I deposit her on the bed, I automatically begin unzipping her dress and she smiles and opens her legs wider, misinterpreting my actions.

Not that I don't want to.

"Take it easy, you nympho." I chuckle and let the dress slide on the sofa. When I see her bare body clad only in the sexiest of lingerie, I almost wish I had covered her up instead because now the twitch in my cock has turned into a throbbing ache.

"But I want to fuck!" she insists, seeming to forget our argument earlier. She tries to pull me closer but I try and manage to resist, if she feels my dick poking her thigh she'll know the power she has over me and I can't let that happen. Instead, I sit closer by her on the soft bed while her hand reaches out to caress my cheek.

"So handsome." She smiles, "Don't you find me beautiful anymore, dear stepbrother?"

"Even without that fucking tiara your beauty remains unparalleled." I cover her hand in mine and I kiss her forehead.

"Glad to know." She murmurs and takes my hand to drape around her waist so I have no choice but to lie down beside her. "Are you sure you don't want to fuck tonight?"

I chuckle at her little-girl voice and it is that tone that makes me want to believe in what she's told me. If she doesn't remember anything, then maybe it was just an accident. Kathryn is different when she's drunk, she acts out of character and yet at the same time, she's exactly like herself. She's more affectionate and she sounds so young.

"Not tonight." I try to wrench my hand from her and she frowns at the lack of contact. Pulling up the covers, I cover her as best I could and she gives a pleased hum.

Her eyes narrow and she gives a large yawn, "You know you're a bastard for leaving me." She comments sleepily while I venture to the bathroom to get changed. It takes me minutes to realize that she tells the truth when she's drunk.

Fuck. So did she remember what happened? Will she be able to tell me? Will I even be able to ask?

I open the door to climb under the covers with her and she spoons her body to fit against mine. Her breath reeks of tequila and brandy and generally just alcohol, the strands of her hair soft against my skin.

"Not tonight." I repeat for some unknown reason and Kathryn leans up to kiss me. As her mouth touches mine I feel like some of her intoxication has been passed on through the mere joining of our lips.

Everything is still and fast and dangerous and now I don't even want to ask her about what happened.

When I respond with equal fervor, I feel her smile against my mouth and I don't even care if I'm letting her win. I need this as much as she does. I need her. I need her more than I need the truth.

The phrase 'Not tonight' takes a new meaning.

I slip my tongue into her eager mouth and she straddles me, her fingers twisting the curls of my hair. I feel her wetness on my groin, the thin clothing hindering us already damp. I feel her pulsate on top of me, her sex hot and enticing and I throw everything I was thinking out the window.

"Hate me," she says, breaking away from my mouth with a small sound of suction. "But not tonight. Not tonight, Sebastian."

"Kathryn." I groan while she attacks my neck with the ferocity of anger, frustration and lust.

"Again." The friction between our wanting organs has increased our hunger for each other. Her hips move back and forth while she gives a slight purr, clamping down hard on her lip. I free her from the constriction of her bra and flip her over; placing little licks and nips along her chest. I suck harder on the hollow of her collarbone, marking her as mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. My guilty secret. My demon. My past. Mine.

"Say my name again; I've missed hearing it from you."

I stimulate her clit, pinching the sensitive bunch of nerves and she gives a long moan that's filled with untold dirty words and sexual innuendos. Her panties are drenched and she's pulled me closer, telling me all the things she wanted me to do to her.

"Kathryn, Kathryn, Kathryn." I growl when she slips the garment to toss on the floor; she is laid bare and beautiful under me. I knew right then that I had never wanted anyone as much as I wanted her. We kiss once more and I am left reeling, her entire body is flushed and slightly sweaty but she's perfect. While I suckle on her breasts, she wraps her arms around my neck and presses herself against me like we had already been joined. Her small chin is placed on top of my head and for a moment she relishes the way her name rolled off my tongue the way I relished her tight hold on me.

My hand is filled with her fluids when she turns away and in typical Kathryn fashion, she's on top again.

"Dominating vixen." I murmur and her lips curve into a smile. She pulls my warm, drenched fingers from her and continues to torture me by rubbing across my pleading arousal, looking intently when my mouth dropped open and I unintentionally let out a weak whimper.

"You weaken me." I whisper without intending to say it since it had so many meanings.

Her body stops moving and she leans forward to place her forehead on my chin like she's thinking of something to say in return but can't figure out what. I run my free hand across the curve of her spine, admiring her smooth skinned backside as though it was the finest of silk. I feel her breathing heavily. I feel everything about her, the hardness of her nipples, the warmth and tempting wetness of her want, and the fast beating of her heart.

"You do the same to me, Sebastian." I feel her lips move against my chest and the weariness overtakes her alcohol and drugged body and she slumps on top of me.

And just like that, she's knocked out cold. My arms tighten around her and strangely enough I don't feel disappointed that she's fallen asleep. I gently nudge her and move her by my side, where her face cuddles against my neck and she gives it the smallest of kisses before resuming her slumber.

I stare at Kathryn for minutes and then it spans into an hour. I've memorized her every breath, the slope of her aristocratic nose, the tinge of her dark brown hair when darkness fell and we only had the moonlight as our source. I know when she's dreaming because her eyebrows slightly furrow and when she's having a nightmare because her mouth twitches unpleasantly, I know how she feels when she's pressed against me after the passion has subsided, how erratic her heart would beat and just how warm her skin can be when I touch her the way she wants me to.

But despite this knowledge Kathryn is still a mystery, and I'm not sure if I even want to know the truth.

Did you do it, Kathryn? Did you kill Annette?

* * *

**A/N: Hello to everyone! Thank you for reading! (I apologize if I am unable to say hello to each of you who reviewed, I am very tired and my eyes hurt from rereading and editing this. I really hadn't realized how much I wrote back then! It's so crazy.)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

_"Choose."_

_I stared at her as the life leaked out from her wound, wondering how she possibly could do something like this. This was beyond evil and beyond torture, the angelic features of Annette's face were twisted in silent pain and she held on to me desperately._

_"Please don't make me do this."_

_Time was running out._

_"I told her it didn't hurt, but I lied." She spoke in a raspy voice that would probably haunt me for the years to come. "I lied, Sebastian. I didn't want her to know how much it affected me. I wanted to be as strong as her, because that's what you love about her right?"_

_"What?" my entire body has gone cold._

_"I told her about your journal. What it…" she winced and I automatically held her up to keep her from crashing to the wooden floor. "What it said… She was so angry."_

_"Did she do this to you?"_

_She looked up at me, kissing my mouth before I could fathom the idea that she was about to. As her blood smeared across my cheek her pale lips moved but I refused to hear her reply._

_"You both did… So choose, Sebastian." Her mouth turned down into another wince and the tears fell down her unblinking eyes, "Choose me. Love me. You can make it up to me."_

_I close my eyes and I gently place her on the floor, "I'm sorry, Annette."_

_The scene changed and suddenly I was at a funeral. Kathryn was absent and the only people present were her father and me. Dean Hargrove glared at me with utmost contempt as Annette's casket was being lowered. Suddenly, the wooden cover cracked open and a hand popped out, the wound still fresh and bloody as it had been that night._

_"Murderer! I loved you!" she screeched and Dean Hargrove's grief turned into madness. The combined hateful glares he had given me all turned into one ugly look full of pain and fury and suddenly I saw the devil in him. He snarled, wrapping his hands around my neck and pushing his thumbs down my throat._

_I felt the cool grass hit my back as the air slowly escaped me._

Morning presents quite a different viewpoint for me. As usual, my eyes shoot open and I am familiarized with the room for a couple of seconds, blinking slowly while the sweat begins to drip down my forehead. I turn my head to find the other side empty, the sheets are cold and I instinctively wonder if it had all been a delusion of mine. It was perhaps somewhere between a dream and a nightmare, because with Kathryn it's usually a combination of both.

Friedrich Nietzsche said that there was always some madness in love, but there was also always some reason in madness. What then, does that imply? That I've gone mad for loving her? That maybe the reason why I know so much about her and at the same time be afraid to know even more is because I've become contradictory to myself? I always find that there are two sides when it came to Kathryn. As complex as our relationship might be, it always goes down to two aspects. Love and hate. Lust, fury and passion all lie in that fine line and I experience all of these emotions when I am with her.

You might be wondering though, because if you actually knew me you'd think that I was too fucked up to love anybody else but myself. That maybe bedding different women in my lifetime has rendered me incapable of feeling any emotion, maybe with each regretful cry of my name and each screams and shouts of hurt and rejected women I have come to use and discard like used tissue, I left a piece of my own conscience until I had none left. Maybe I did. But now it's back, and now I realize that I had been happier when I didn't have it.

I do admit that I'm fucked up. I won't disagree with you; in fact, I'll even applaud you for having the guts to voice out what many people have thought of over the years of my arrogant, self serving existence. You can say it, yell it even. 'Sebastian Valmont can't love anybody else. He's too fucked up, his brain only functions to please his body and his vices. Sex, drugs and alcohol: Those are what he needs to function, and to function in a pleasure filled world is his only purpose in life.'

But there's something you got wrong somewhere along the line.

The problem with me (and I do admit this) isn't the fact that I'm too fucked up to love anybody else. It's the fact that I'm too fucked up to love, really love anybody else but her.

The door opens just as I had gone from the bathroom, running a hand through my damp hair. I don't have to turn around to know who it is, Amanda usually went ahead and grabbed me (when she was feeling horny), and since Kathryn and I haven't quite gone to that comfort zone yet, I can tell it's her. Her hesitance is like a telltale sign, a tentative movement masked by that damn near perfect face as she looked me over.

Ah, speak of the devil.

(Or possibly one of his countless disciples.)

She's dressed differently today, her skin looks tanned and glowing, there were no traces of a hangover from her episode last night. She's like one of those people who might feel like shit but still manage to look so fucking gorgeous.

"How are you?" I grab a pair of boxers and slide them on under the towel, her mouth turns up at the sight of my bare buttocks but she doesn't comment on it.

"Fine." She answers, looking at me. "You know, I could have handled it last night. You didn't have to butt in like that, it was quite embarrassing. You made me look like I'm not capable of taking care of myself."

I'm pretty sure that as a reflex of her pseudo 'I'm-a-powerful-bitch' chastising, my blue eyes roll and I am quick to retort.

"Oh, sure, get yourself killed. Waste the guilt I had been feeling over the past year, you never did care anyway. As long as you were breathing, you forgot everything else. Once a selfish bitch, always a selfish bitch."

Another round of confrontations has begun. I want to come over to her, to be nearer so she could feel the intense glare I was currently giving her. But from past experience I knew that getting near her would also mean having her power over me grow stronger as the distance between us diminished. I simply couldn't let that happen again.

Her brow contorts into a frown, "What are you talking about?"

Idiot. She doesn't know I had to choose.

Why, you may ask, did I keep it from her? I didn't want her to feel what I felt. I didn't want the knowledge that Annette's death had the potential to be a murder or a suicide because I didn't want her to feel guilty. I was fully all for keeping her ignorant of the night's proceedings, especially when she'd informed me that after Annette had caught her snorting that precious nose candy of hers and pleaded and blackmailed her, threatening to tell on Kathryn to her father, to let her have some, she was out of it and didn't remember anything at all.

Nothing at all. With that lie I perpetuated, I knew that as evil as she claimed to be, even this was too far from her. Even Kathryn won't be able to take the guilt away and I didn't want her to feel it. Guilt is pain.

She's had enough of that.

God, she's right. I've turned into a fucking chump.

I didn't want her to remember because however tormented I was over that night, I didn't want to hear her voice out my worst fears. That yes, she was high and when Annette had informed her of the hateful things written about her in my journal, she had a fit and tried to shut my ex girlfriend up by slicing across her skin until she bled to death.

"Nothing." I mutter, turning away. My eyes darken the slightest shade and I keep myself busy. "Get out, Kathryn."

"No." she answers coldly, "Let's finish this right now. I deserve an explanation, Sebastian."

"I wasn't aware there was anything to finish. How could you finish something when nothing even started?"

I feel a sharp shove and in surprise, I stumble, righting myself on the wobbling side table that swayed precariously. Another dose of pain is received when she begins attacking me with her punches, scratches and slaps.

"You bastard!"

"That again? Surely you've thought of new ways to express your affections for me, Kat."

"Don't you ever call me that!"

"Why not? You called me a bastard."

"You are a bastard!" she screamed, her face turning red.

"Glad we got that established." I reply unflinchingly. I can almost feel her hot, panting breath hit my skin, her silky brown hair brush against my bare chest and her eyes search my thoughts for the answers. I am tempted to ask her, to tell her what really happened in hopes that maybe she'll remember something and she can finally put a rest on my nagging thoughts.

But I don't want to hear her answer. I don't want to hear what the truth might be. I would rather be haunted by all these visions of Kathryn possibly being a murderer than actually knowing it.

"Now leave!" My mouth turns into a sneer and I am rewarded by the sudden angry darkening of her tumultuous green eyes.

"You can't dismiss me like I'm one of your fucking conquests." She hisses dangerously, backing me against the wall. For a woman of her petite size, her demanding appearance made up for her range.

I need to get out of there. I need to leave before I start seeing blue eyes instead of green when Kathryn looks at me, I need to stop talking to her before I remember that night over and over again until I drown myself in alcohol and sin to forget.

"Oh, but you were one of my fucking conquests." My laughter sounds hollow and bitter to my ears.

You're not. You're really not, Kathryn. Stay away from me. I miss you everyday. I miss holding you, I miss kissing that spot on your neck that always made you whimper, I miss making love to you alternating between slow and furious, like everything else was falling apart and we were the only constant existence in this world.

Kathryn recoils at my laughter, looking stunned and hurt. I want to murder Annette Hargrove from my thoughts so she would disappear. Her furious face falls for a moment and her features tighten.

But I did murder her, didn't I? I left her to die. I finished what Kathryn maybe started. Just like the bet.

"You don't mean that." She whispers, the mask of ice back but her tone still and almost hurt.

But I've gone too far to stop now. I need to stop looking at her… I need to stop because she's the catalyst of memories from a past I wanted to flee from. I don't mean it. But I have to say it. I have to continue. Years and years of charming women with false acts and promises have helped me maintain my cruel demeanor. I tilt my neck to bring my mouth closer to hers, like I was going to kiss her, only I did the unthinkable.

I mock her.

"But you are." I murmur, licking her lower lip. "You were the greatest conquest, Kathryn. You were my best accomplishment among all of them, even Annette. When we made that bet I told you that she would be my greatest victory but I was wrong. You are. When I finally fucked you that night, I loved making you scream. I loved taking down the Ice Bitch a notch down or two. Especially when I made you beg."

No, fuck, don't listen to me, Kathryn.

"It was fun for a while, baby. Think about it, I got some from the virgin and then I'd get some from you. Twice the fun, wouldn't you say?"

I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please leave I can't stand this.

I caress her cheek with one finger, forcing myself to treat her like every other slut I encountered. I bite the insides of my cheeks as part of the habit, "Of course, there's no denying the fact that you were so much better in the sack than Annette was. That's why I kept you around. You think I'm your toy? That I'm just someone you screwed around with? Baby, you couldn't be more wrong. You're my toy. You're my best fuck toy, Kat. It amused me to make you swallow your words. You didn't believe in love and yet there you were, making plans for our future."

I love you, Kathryn.

My head suddenly snaps to the side as my cheek stung from the impacted fury of her slap.

"You want to know why I left? Why, after Annette's death, we just stopped talking?"

"I hate you." She grits her teeth, her eyes narrowed into tiny slits. I know there's probably a red handprint on my left cheek right now, but I deserve it. Grabbing her shoulders roughly, I bang her against the wall, reversing our positions. Kathryn doesn't wince when the hardness hit her bony back, fully intending on hating me at the moment.

"I got tired of you." I sneer in her ear, biting on the earlobe teasingly. "All this bullshit about going to Harvard together, get it through your thick, slutty head, Kat. I just wanted you because you did things to me with that hot little mouth of yours no other girl could. I suppose the final straw came when you pushed drove Annette over the edge. You made her like you, you corrupted her. That's a new low even for you. That's when I realized that you were too fucked up to be kept. I couldn't have that especially with all the women I have yet to befriend, could I? So I fucked you one last time and I was gone."

Kathryn, when angered, can be comparable to a hurricane. It strikes with merciless wrath and it's quite futile to struggle against because of the impossibly strong winds and endless ire about the body of the pillager.

Now that I've said my lies, she places her hands on both sides of my jaw, her sharp fingernails digging into my skin that it almost bleeds. I try to twist from her vulture like grip but find that the more I twist my head, the deeper the half moon markings from her manicured nails get. Blue eyes meet green ones while her darkened stormy gaze read me, breaking through the walls of my half truths.

For a few minutes the room is silent except for our shallow breathing, and then she suddenly smiles evilly.

"Liar, liar." She scoffs, seemingly unperturbed by the harsh words I had just uttered even though I know that she must have been hurt.

"Let me go."

"You want to know how I know you're lying, Sebastian?"

"It wasn't a lie."

"No," she agrees, "We weren't a lie."

"You're on drugs again, aren't you? It would certainly explain the delusions."

"I am not. With the exception of last night, I've been clean. I fully intend to keep it that way."

"No," I sneer, hoping that the pained look on my face at having to do this to her was contorted and fucked up enough to be perceived as disgust. "You're filthy. Even without the shit you snort."

She ignores this dig, preferring to listen to the truth that we both know was kept hidden in the unnatural loud beating of my nervous heart.

Her hold loosens on me and she makes her way to my neck, trailing hot kisses until I had to bite the insides of my mouth to keep from groaning. The four marks on both side of my jaw are prominent and they hurt, but as her fingers gently run over it, my skin feels like it's on its way to healing again. She nuzzles her brown head against me and my boxers suddenly wrinkle because I've made fists with my hands, crumpling the cloth.

"When you lie, your voice breaks." She says softly, "There's a barely noticeable waver in your gaze and you bite the insides of your cheeks."

"Don't do this to me." I feel myself breaking. I want to take her and ravish her the way I had in the past, but I can't. If I continue this with her, I have to tell her the truth. I can't live the lie she lives, but I can't make her live with the guilt either. I entertain the thought of losing myself in her tonight, but it doesn't seem right. How long will it take until Annette Hargrove's demise haunts my thoughts again? I can't do this to her, I can't be that fucked up shell of a man when I was with Kathryn.

Sebastian Valmont, the fucking martyr.

"If a different man had just told me what you did, I would have fucked him up so badly he'll wish he was never conceived." Her hands caress my stomach and I involuntarily take a sharp breath, "But you should know that however different you might be, you still deserve this."

Her knee jerks up to my groin and an unbelievable amount of pain shoots up it almost makes my brain explode. I give a loud cry and she automatically steps back to avoid the crashing of my pained form on the floor. My teeth are gritted and I scream every profanity I could think of while she only watches me with complete seriousness.

"Bitch!"

"You would do well than to treat me like I'm one of your whores."

"You are one of my whores!" I scream out of spite, my eyes tearing up while my cock throbbed painfully. I bend, trying to wait until the pain goes away but it doesn't seem to help. Fucking hell, Kathryn's such a power tripping bitch. "What makes you so damn different?"

She kneels before me and strokes my forehead, looking deep into my teary (from the pain) eyes. "Because nobody else matches up to you." she began, brushing my blond hair back almost affectionately. "Nobody else knows that when you get kissed right here," her mouth brushes against a spot on my neck near my earlobe and I close my eyes, the tingling sensation of her lips against my skin overcoming the now subsiding pain of my groin.

"You shiver."

"Damn you." I mutter, sitting up and pissed off at myself for not showing some form of resistance when her kisses eventually lead to my mouth.

"Nobody knows that your eyes turn a darker shade of blue when you're turned on," she stops to look at me and I couldn't think of anything to say. "Or that when I suck on your bottom lip, you get ten times more aroused. When you're sad your mouth turns downwards and your scowl is often less pronounced. When you're happy you try not to smile but you can't help it so you smirk, only when you do smirk there are two lines at the corners of your mouth that indicates a hint of a grin. People think you're a master of deceit, Sebastian. But you can't deceive me. I know that when you tell the truth, there's a certain tone of conviction in your voice and that day-"

_"You know, you can be so fucking infuriating. Listen, Kathryn, just because I love you doesn't mean I'm going to let you make an important decision such as this for me. As you may very well recall—"_

"You meant it." She tells me, running her thumb on the line on my lower lip. "I know that you did."

I bring my mouth to hers so hard that my teeth almost get chipped in the process, a low growl escaping my throat to cover the thudding of my heart. She knew all those things about me?

The kiss didn't start as gentle and tentative as most kisses started, no, this one was full of anger and hate, she hated me for the things I've said and I hated her for the things she didn't say. I squeeze her hips and lift her so she sat on my lap, my tongue exploring the wet cavern of her sweet mouth.

"I'm sorry…" she murmurs after a long moan came from her, "I'm sorry about her."

"Don't say her name." I wrap my arms around her while she straddles me, "Not now."

"I didn't… ah…" my fingers find her hardened peak and I twist it gently, "I didn't know she would… oh… bleed… that… hard…"

What?

We both freeze as the lie is destroyed before our very eyes. Kathryn's eyes widen and I see darkness and tear filled blue eyes again. My heart hardens at the implications of her words and I push her away from me.

"What did you say?" I grind my teeth, standing up. "You know what happened! You killed her!"

"She was- She told me about what you said about me, she quoted your journal and I was so angry at you. That new drug I had been trying clouded my rationality and I remember…" she pauses hesitantly, "I remember wanting to kill her. She was laughing at me, the drug had gotten into her head as well. She kept saying that I manipulated you into leaving her. I wasn't thinking, Sebastian."

I could only gape at her, horrified.

"I remember blade against my fingers and I grabbed her wrist. I pressed it against her skin, wanting to scare her, to shut her up. I remember blood… But it was only a trickle, I swear! Everything was so blurry that night, I was so furious at her and at you… I wouldn't have killed her. You know that."

The volcano had just burst and the lava spewing from it is so scalding you'll be scarred for life.

"You made me believe that you didn't remember what had happened! All this time, you were just too fucking selfish to tell me! Do you have any idea how many months I've suffered because of it? GOD DAMMIT, KATHRYN! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU DID TO ME? ANNETTE MADE ME CHOOSE! YOU HAD OD'D AND SHE WAS BLEEDING TO DEATH! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW IT FELT TO BE AT HER FUNERAL AND HAVE HER FATHER LOOK AT ME LIKE I WAS THE FUCKING DEVIL?"

"I don't remember slitting her wrist! She could have just as easily ended her miserable, pathetic life—"

I don't know why I did what I did next, was it the accumulated guilt and self deprecation that had caused my hand to strike her across her lovely cheek? There was a surprised cry from her as she fell backwards, and I felt no remorse for the way her small body crumpled under the strength of my hand.

"IT'S POSSIBLE! IT'S NOT AN UNLIKELY STORY THAT SHE WOULD OFF HERSELF AND PUT IT ON ME! THAT'S JUST THE KIND OF BEHAVIOR I WOULD EXPECT FROM A VIRGINAL BITCH WHO SPREADS HER LEGS AFTER KNOWING YOU FOR WHAT? A WEEK?" She grabs the closest thing, my journal, and opens it.

Kathryn wants to hurt me now and she knows me too well. As she grabs the letter opener, her tight grip on the sharp silver object tightens even more when she opens my journal and slices through the paper as hard as she could. She cuts through the leather and moments later, there are bits and pieces of scrawl filled paper on the floor. My recollections turn into confetti and I don't know which one went where, I stand there frozen as my life, my conquests and everything that had happened turned into a fucking jigsaw puzzle. When she finishes, her hand bled from the tight holding and she throws the notebook on the other side of the room, watching as more papers flew from the ruined journal.

"AND IF I DID KILL HER, I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO DID! YOU STARTED IT! YOU PUSHED HER OVER THE EDGE! NOT ONLY THAT, YOU HAD A CHOICE AS TO WHETHER OR NOT TO SAVE HER! YOU CHOSE ME! IT WAS YOUR DECISION, NOT MINE! IF I'M A MURDERER, THEN SO ARE YOU!"

"GET OUT!" I holler, shoving her so hard that she loses her balance and crashes into a chair. She responds my chucking a vase at me, hitting me squarely on the head so hard that it breaks at the impact and I see nothing but stars for a while. Her mouth is bleeding and there's a cut on her cheek but I ignore it. As she stands up, she casts one last withering look at me. Only it spoke volumes. It also spoke of disappointment and pain, of rage and rejection and as much as I wanted to make it go away, I can't.

"I wish I had never known you."

"The feeling's mutual, Kathryn."

The door slams and I feel drained of my anger. I sink down and place my head in my hands, trying to keep the image of Kathryn killing Annette because it was the only way for me to stop myself from going after her. My room is a mess, but somehow it seems more fitting that the outside world matched the dizzying emotions that boiled inside of me. I long for the soothing spell of alcohol to be cast upon me when the door opens and another angry woman stomps inside.

"Amanda, I'm really not in the—"

She smacks my head and I yell in surprise.

I groan, rubbing the back of my head and looking up to meet a pair of intense, dark sea blue eyes.

"What the hell was that for?"

"You do not hit a woman!" she yells in my ear and I cringe at the anger in her voice. "No matter how much of a bitch Kathryn may have been, you do not hit her!"

"FUCK OFF!" I growl, staring hatefully at her. "Get a life, you bitter bitch. Just because your boyfriend's lying six feet under without his limbs doesn't mean I'm going to pity you and it certainly doesn't give you a right to butt in. It's really none of your concern right now; I can do anything I fucking want. What's it to you anyway? Just go back to your room and leave me alone. Go fantasize about your dead boyfriend, you're a fun fuck but I'm not in the fucking mood right now."

Her pale mouth drops open at my remark and I kick myself for it. Her entire gorgeous face falls but I'm too angered by Kathryn to appease her or rectify my callous remark.

"I'll talk to you later, Manda." I reply, crossing the room to the bar.

-0-0-0-

It turns out that I don't talk to Amanda for the rest of that day. For the next two weeks, I remain drunk as a fucked up asshole, drifting in and out of sobriety only when I bed a woman or two to distract myself. My room still had its chaotic mess when Kathryn had left because it served as a reminder of the fact that I had hit her. My ruined journal still lay where it landed, the vase still shattered on the floor and there was even dry crusted blood on the chair where she slammed her head into.

Oh, God. I had hurt Kathryn.

Then I screamed at Amanda.

Yes, it's official. Aside from being a fucking martyr, I am now an asshole.

But the truth... What was it? Which one was it?

Since then, I had moved into one of the other rooms. That room only reminded me of Kathryn now. It was tainted with the memory of holding her during that night of her inebriation and our almost coupling.

My lips are dry and the night is cruel, the warm body on the bed is voluptuous and tanned. It's another reminder of the fact that I feel emptied and hollow on the inside; I am tempted to ask this faceless beauty to leave. It's been a while since I spoke to Amanda, she had treated me with the coldest of shoulders after what I'd said and I don't blame her. I feel raw and angry, this story bubbles inside of me like a ticking time bomb waiting to blow me up into millions of pieces.

Suddenly I know. I have to tell what had happened. I have to get it out.

My stepsister sits in front of her vanity table, looking blankly into the mirror as she runs a brush through her soft hair. As I enter her room, our eyes meet but she says nothing.

"I'm fucked up." I say as a way of explaining, shoving my hands into the worn out pants I had put on after leaving the woman on my bed.

Amanda watches me closely through the mirror, her gaze blank and impassive. For once I can't read her, but I hoped that she wouldn't turn me away. She needed to hear my side of the story; she needed to hear what had happened as much I need to let somebody know.

"That remains to be seen." She answers softly.

"On what?"

"Your story."

* * *

**A/N: Hello and thank you to everyone out there! Sorry it is taking so long to reupload! Life has been crazy busy but I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!**


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